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Poem by Alfred Edward Housman


Last Poems. 15. Eight O'Clock


He stood, and heard the steeple
        Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town.
One, two, three, four, to market-place and people
        It tossed them down.

Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour,
        He stood and counted them and cursed his luck;
And then the clock collected in the tower
        Its strength, and struck.



Alfred Edward Housman


Alfred Edward Housman's other poems:
  1. Last Poems. 20. The Night Is Freezing Fast
  2. More Poems. 14. The Farms of Home Lie Lost in Even
  3. More Poems. 47. For My Funeral
  4. More Poems. 11. The Rainy Pleiads Wester
  5. More Poems. 28. He, Standing Hushed, a Pace or Two Apart


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